Harry Potter and the story no one knows
by liketwenty
Summary: Everyone knows the story of 'The Boy who Lived' but there is another story, an unknown layer that no one wants you to know about. I was there, and will tell you. Warning: contains explicit content. Please review, I want feedback!


You know the story of Harry Potter. You have probably read the books, or seen the movies. Maybe you went to school with him, or maybe you work with him at the ministry. If you are a witch or wizard you will have read all about him in the Daily Prophet. Everybody knows Harry Potter.

But no one knows him the way I do.

The books and movies don't tell you the sort of story that I know. The Daily Prophet only wishes that they had the details that I am privy to. None of his friends know, not even Ronald Weasley and his wife, Hermione. He never told any of his family members. But I know, and I am going to tell you.

Back in our fifth year at Hogwarts, I knew the same Harry Potter that everyone else did. He had been exciting in our first year, an unknown entity, popular just because he was famous. In our second year the shadow of suspicion had been cast upon him, until the secrets of the chamber were revealed. Our third year he battled his demons in front of the entire school. I remember holding my breath as I watched him fall from his broom during that Quidditch match. Our fourth year, he was branded a cheater for entering the tournament while under age.

Now, in our fifth year, people thought he was dangerous, an attention-seeking rumor monger, or possibly a deranged and sick boy, whose mind was addled by too much fame at such a young age. There were a few who believed his wild stories, but most of us just thought they were craving a bit of attention themselves, or too weak-minded to realize they were being lied to.

I had always been amazed by him. Year after year, hardship after hardship, he kept going. He wasn't always polite, or friendly. Often, especially lately, he was cranky and prone to outbursts. But I was just awed by the fact that he was still there. If I had endured half of the things he had, I would have packed my bags and hidden myself away, where no one and nothing could touch me.

But this is the story you already know. What you don't know is that there is another story behind this one. Here is the story of Harry Potter that no one has ever heard.

I was in the Owlrey. I was sending away an order for something, after so many years, I don't even remember what the order was for. I had just released the owl, and was leaning against the window frame, watching it grow ever smaller against the sunset on the horizon. My robes were draped across a bench somewhere near the door. I didn't move when I heard the door creak open. It wasn't until the lock snicked closed that I turned around.

There he was.

Harry Potter was standing about twenty feet away from me. He knew who I was obviously. Hogwarts is a large school, but it doesn't take long before you know everyone in your year. We had never really spoken to each other before, his life was always so crazy, and I liked to stick to the shadows.

"If you want to be alone I can leave," I offered. If I was the subject of the kind of rumors that were circulating about him, I would have wanted to be left alone. He just shook his head, no. I tugged on my blouse. Was it all wrinkled? I smoothed the fabric of my skirt, why had he locked the door?

I stared at him, he was staring at me. It was odd. Neither of us looked away. Then he took a few steps toward me. I swallowed hard. Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he was crazy. He was still walking towards me.

When he stopped, he was only inches away. It was too close for propriety. I could feel the warm flush of his breath on my face as he stared down at me, still not speaking. He smelled like treacle. Involuntarily, I closed my eyes.

His mouth was on mine. My eyes flew open in surprise. He was still staring back at me. The kiss was long, and hot and deep. I will admit I was in too much shock to enjoy it much at the time. When he finally pulled away, I turned around. Embarrased. Ashamed.

His hands circled my waist. They rubbed small circles across my hips and stomach before he moved his hand down. I stepped back automatically. This had to stop. But my backward mobility brought me pressed up against his front. I could feel a hard ridge pushing against my back.

He was kissing my neck, an amazing sensation, and I was so distracted by it, that I didn't register his hands filling themselves with my shirt. In one swift movement, buttons flying, my shirt was torn open.

"Wha-!" I had turned around to confront him, this had gone as far as it was going to go. But before I could even finish one word, his mouth was back on mine, and his hands found my breasts. I backed away, but he stepped in to me, never breaking contact with my mouth. His hands fell away, and before I could miss them, (wrong or not it had felt great) something small and hard poked its way between them.

"Diffindo," he whispered into my mouth. The scraps of lace fell to the side, and my breasts sprang out. This time he found my ass and massaged it before sliding his hands to my newly exposed flesh.

I tore my mouth away from his, needing desperately to breathe. He spun me around and my nipples hardened against the chilly breeze filtering in through the window. Though it was unlikely for anyone to be on the grounds below, I sincerely hoped that if there was someone outside, they didn't look up.

He filled his left hand with a breast, and plunged his right down, inside the waistband of my skirt, and halted. He had found out my secret. (To this day, I do not see the point of panties, and refuse to wear them.) I heard a muffled chuckle against my neck.

His middle finger slid into the moist slit between my legs. I moaned with pleasure as it massaged the small hard nub it found there. It slid farther down, his thumb replacing his middle finger as it entered me. He began to move his hand in a distracting and highly pleasurable pattern. I moaned again.

When I was panting, rocking my hips into his hand, he withdrew. I felt foolish for a moment, but felt a pressure on my back. I yielded to it, bracing myself against the low window sill. I felt my skirt slide up my thighs at the movement.

He entered me. I gasped out loud, he was bigger than I would have expected. I squeezed him, savoring the feeling of a pussy filled. He entered further, I hadn't realized he wasn't all the way in. I squeezed again. With a groan he yanked my hips back farther yet. I cried out in both pleasure and pain as the entire length of him entered me.

A spasm of pleasure ran through my entire body. I was already cumming. Using my hips as an anchor he thrust in to me again and again. His testecles swung forward every time he pulled back. They slapped against my clit sending a secondary ripple of pleasure through me. Harder, faster, and somehow still harder, he rutted against me. I came again and again, it seemed as though he would never stop.

He was going so fast now, that I had to hold on to the windowsill for dear life, my breasts swinging free in the chilly night air. With a final groan I felt him shudder behind me. His arm snaked around my waist to hold me up. My knees had buckled. He leaned against the frame of the window, both of us breathing hard.

When he pulled away I turned around. I was prepared to confront him, no longer mad, but intensely curious. But when I saw his face I understood. With everything he was going through, there was no release for him. No way to escape. He had wanted his release from me, and I found myself quite willing to give it to him. He rested his damp forehead against mine and sighed.

I turned around to face the window again, savoring the high I was on. I heard his footsteps, hear the lock snick open, and he was gone.


End file.
